It's late Sunday night when you open up your email. You see my name under the online contacts and open up the chat window. A three hour conversation ensues, including everything under the sun.
How was your trip to DC?
Great! How was work this week?
Fine, no problems.
The boys doing alright?
Yeah, they had the last game. Finished the season 7-3. How are the kids? Potty training at night improved?
Yeah. Going great!
The discussion escalates, and soon, I am wet with want for you. You direct my hands, running through my hair, around to the back of my neck, down over my shoulder. Stop, you say, just before I get to my right breast. I arch my back in the seat, begging you to let me keep going. Finally, you move my hand down my belly, and along the inside of my thigh. Please, I ask, and I am between my legs, making little circles with my fingers. Eventually, I cum.
I take my time building you up. I tell you I am kissing your neck and working my way down over your stomach, kissing, nipping you with my teeth, scratching your back and your ass. You imagine that I pull you into my mouth as I dig my nails into your ass. Eventually, you explode, wishing you were inside me from behind.
Just before the three hours is up, I tell you I am meeting my college roommates in Richmond that following weekend. We don't have to live out any fantasy, but I ask you to come by. I would love to just see you, talk to you face to face, really catch up on things. We can meet somewhere totally public, somewhere completely benign. You make no promises.
The next five days are torture for me. I wonder whether you'll show, if you are considering it, or if I was out of line to even make the suggestion. The anticipation kills me, and I am anxious with thoughts of what to wear, what to take, and where to meet. I want to email you several times during the week to ask if you are coming, but I am too afraid. By Thursday night, I have not heard from you, so I email you.
I will be at the Marriot in Chester. I am leaving you a key at the front desk. I am ordering takeout from Mai Ling, and will be in the room after 6pm if I do not hear from you before then. I hope to see you.
Friday. I still have not heard from you. At 5:30, I order takeout, pick it up, drop off your key, and go back to the room. I run water into the whirlpool tub there in the room and get undressed. I turn on the TV., get into the tub, sit back and relax.
I know I should never have expected you, but I have to admit I am disappointed. I longed to wrap my legs around your waist again, to feel your breath on the back of my neck, your tongue on my clit. Absentmindedly, my fingers find the inside of my thigh, and then part my lips. They begin circling while thoughts of you pushing your way inside me take over.
I email you the next morning.
I missed you, but I understand. Spending the day with the girls, shopping, and then dinner at The Tobacco Company. Email when you are ready.
Love ya.
About noon, my roommates begin arriving at the hotel. We have lunch, catch up and shop most of the day. I throw on a black dress and heels for dinner, and we are off. We are about 30 minutes into cocktails when you and Jessica walk in. You are sly, evil, and mischievous in a way that I makes me cross my legs and shift in my seat giddily. I can tell you are looking around for me, or at least I hope for me. My back is to the wall, so I can see your every move. Your eyes focus on Jenn as she walks across the room from the bar, and then they find me. I smile, corner of my mouth turned up, holding back from walking over and taking you right on the table. I glance away back to Carrie, and then look back up at you. You sit at the table across the room, and I wish I could read lips.
We exchange a few looks during dinner, and eventually I get up and head to the bathroom. You also excuse yourself. We meet in the hallway, you push me into the ladies room, and kiss me forcefully, like you mean it. My hands are buried in your hair, and I throw one leg up to pull you closer. Your hands push my dress up to my waist, and you claw at my ass, left bare by the thong. I close my eyes, knowing that these stolen 2 minutes are too good to last. You walk away without a word, leaving me to collect myself while you go in the men's room. You exit, aloof with confidence, and we go back to our separate tables. You let me go first, just so you can watch me walk away.
I manage to control my excitement the rest of dinner, but it is tough. My thong is wet, and I cannot stop staring at you. I bite my lip every time I catch you looking at me. Obviously, you are doing a great job of covering up, too. Jessica is engrossed in every word you say, and laughs every few minutes as she reaches for your hand or strokes your arm. For the first time, I am jealous. As we walk by your table to leave, I make sure to say loud enough for you to hear that we are going to a nightclub in Shockhoe Bottom. I need a man to take me on the dance floor and all but fuck me! Secretly, and you know it to be true, I need it to be you.
Four drinks in, and my inhibitions all but gone, we arrive at the club, and already feeling a little loopy. By the time I have another drink and hear the music, I am aching to feel you between my legs. A song plays, a dance goes by, and then there you are. The cliché' is true; my heart skips a beat. My hips begin to swing wildly, and my back arches as if I had your hands around me. I am dancing just to work you up, sliding my dress higher up my thighs as my hips make exaggerated figure eights. I want you to imagine me stripping for you, so I do all I can to entice you, to tease you. A few more drinks, and I just may get myself in trouble.
Several drinks later, I am seated at the bar, shoes off, inhibitions long gone. You sit beside me, nonchalantly order two drinks, and I slide my foot up your leg and make a production of leaning over to get a napkin. You pretend not to notice outwardly, but quietly you whisper, "Sorry about last night."
"No apology needed."
"Wait up tonight?"
"Absolutely. Key's still at the desk"
